A tale of two wagons

Amazing the difference a little bit of paint will make. Well, paint plus some lumber plus more than a little elbow grease. Case in point: a pair of old buckboard wagons at the Sharlot Hall Museum grounds. (Those are buckboards, aren't they? Not being of the rural persuasion, I've no background in the finer points of passenger wagons.)

Admittedly, there are more than a few folk who like their farm equipment from yesterday thoroughly rust-ic. No doubt they would prefer this moldering heap of a wagon in a less conspicuous corner of the grounds (below). I actually did not see it til the other day, when I entered through the uphill parking lot.


Yavapai Central: After the election, what next for Georgene? News, that's what. This morning she posted the very first story on her new county news blog -- all about the big proposed expansion of the Granite Gate senior facilities. Be sure to take a good look today and stop by on a regular basis -- Yavapai Central will soon be a major player amongst local media.

Somthing(s) Old, Something New

Walking downtown this morning, bro & I espied this, what, contraption? Big. Heavy. All iron. Rusted. Mysterious. Just the sort of thing moderns use to adorn the garden, though a fork lift might be required...

Here you can compare the size with the recycle containers or the "little" bro's arm for scale. Likely a relic of mining days.

Now this relic dates from more comfy circumstances -- an early soda fountain. One of many antiques over at the Goodwin Street Pharmacy. Yes, we stopped for an egg cream and a milk shake.

Now for the new: I thought it was just the ladies who went for new hats, but that's the bro looking to buy a new cheese cutter, which, it turns out, is a rarity Down Under. Fine selection, I'd say.

The Iron Zoo on I-17

Ever since our visit to the dinosaur lady out Iron Springs Road last fall, I've hankered to visit the source of her huge metal sculptures.

The chance came last week on the return trip after we saw the dotter and GD off to Alaska. There it was, on the west side of I-17 at the main turn-off to Anthem. The Metal Corral, the place is called. A veritable zoo of B*I*G rust-colored animals for your yard and mine.

A veritable Serengeti, it was. And as hot as the South African desert, too. The niece and I hurried to take our pictures so that we could get back into the air conditioned car!

The one disappointment -- far more modern animals than saurians, dragons or unicorns.

Here the critters were lined up to use the facility.

Even though I'd prefer a unicorn or stegasaurus, I'd sure settle for a lion, a bighorn sheep...

...or this eagle (or is it a roc? I can't be sure.)

Nice horses. The granddaughter would be freaked out to own one of them. Wow!

The cobra overlooks a collection of beasties and iron mariachi musicians lying down, awaiting shipment to a buyer in California. A blacksmith works in the shed at left; yes, in mid-summer. In Phoenix. However, only ornamental iron work is made here in Arizona. The animals come from a facility down in Baja near the border. I'd love to see that animal works!

Rural Rust

So --do you suppose that this fine horse comes from the dragonworks down near Anthem? The style is somewhat similar, though the venue is quite different. Horse I caught this weekend outback in the high country.

This seems to have been a weekend for rustic rust yard decor. For example, this wagon down in Yarnell....

...this one time truck in the high country adorning the same property as...

...this relic that graces the entrance to the estate.

All by way of saying I'm home, I have lots of pictures and no time tonight! A wonderful weekend was had by all.

Historic Wheels

Consider how we value our comfort; if you don't agree, just take one look at the conveyance above and visualize your ride down that dusty, bumpy western "road." I'm inclined to think, also, of the skill it took to make those wheels in a world where the latest factory did not have machines that we had in my husband's home workshop.

Both the buckboard (top picture) on display in Mountain Club and the wagon above, down in Yarnell, feature wooden wheels with an iron rim.

Here's a set of iron wheels I found over on Park Avenue. Probably from some sort of farm equipment.

A more formidable wheeled instrument, this cannon in the little park on West Gurley, must post-date the Civil War. Unlike most smallish mid-America towns, Prescott was settled too late to earn a Civil War cannon for its Courthouse Square.

The modern uses of these old wheels? Yard decor...

...supporting a mailbox...

...or perhaps an informal street sign. How we do take for granted what was one of the great inventions that gave the Old World its major advantage over the civilizations of the New World!

Hilltop Hide-Aways Hide Interesting Stuff

I'm fascinated by local hilltops. As you can imagine, hillsides, hilltops and ridge tops with, as the real estate salespeople call them, "forever views" command top dollar. Each year, new houses built on hillsides in my neighborhood are pricier and pricier.

But there's an interesting fact about hilltops hereabouts: the streets dead end. And property at these street ends appears to have been sold long before today's upscale market took off.

Probably because it was cheaper once upon a time. Hilltops were further from the water, the sewer and the other civilized amenities. Great places, it turns out, to gather up, store and hide Big Outdoor Collectibles, like beat-up muscle cars or heavy, rusty machinery (above.) After all, folks visiting the expensive people down the street aren't going to drive up to the very top just to sniff at such down-market activities.

This rusty mailbox, lying on its side, is at the entrance to one lovely property that abuts another very exclusive built-up site. What did I see here?

Well, there was the old tractor. Looks pretty good from a distance, but hardly a Beemer, Mercedes or Hummer.

But get closer and it's obviously a collectible that hasn't seen loving treatment as yet.

Peak around the corner a little further -- and talk about your "forever views!" What a place to hide your collection. I'd be happy to pitch a tent there any time.

PS: A charming local lady who sits with my mother at meals gave me further background on some of these not-so-upscale spots in old, otherwise exclusive established neighborhoods. It seems that for many, many years, the city fathers, in time-honored western tradition, eschewed zoning ordinances. In short, it was "anything goes." Times have changed, but old-timers are protected by grandfather clauses... and I, for one, don't mind the occasional spot of non-conformity.

Those Horses Again

Recently I promised to provide more detailed pictures of the junkyard horses one sees around town. At a distance, these beasts are surprisingly realistic looking. Close in is different matter. Above, one of Gene Galazan's sculpts out in front of the Phippen Museum.

Another, on McCormick Street. Now for some closer views:

Here's what it could take to make a head.

Details from the body of the same horse. Parts even include license plates.

This is a close-up of another body.

Yet another view.

This is a horse of a different color.

And the trailing end of the McCormick Street animal.

And tail construction of one of the Grove Street horses. The end.

Strolling the Afternoon Away

What's to be seen on an afternoon's walk? Sights that range from the sublime (seed pod, above) to the, well, mundane problems of every day living (below.)

To report: the weather was springlike; the locale, two alleys and Grove Avenue. (I've always wondered about that name -- was it descriptive of beautiful old trees long gone for wider streets or was it dedicated to a city father (or land developer)?

There was this sign on an alley door; particularly poignant to one who spent her school years in Jacksonville, Florida, where the Seaboard was an important institution.

And, just beyond an alley fence, a tree the surgeons had thoroughly lollypopped. Yet come summer, it will be leafy green and no one will be the wiser.

At the credit union over on Grove Street, the landscape gravel had been carefully raked and carelessly walked upon. But the circle was deliberate. A first cousin of graffiti, I'd say.

I finally got reasonably good pictures of Gene Galazan's latest junkyard horses, part of the recent landscaping at Prescott College. More details in a later post.

Between the sidewalk and the pavement, rocks describe a small watercourse -- the land is slanting toward Butte Creek here.

OK, I couldn't resist doing an arty shot. In fact, I made several pictures of similar plants.

One of the nice things I've discovered about citified aspens is that graffiti artists leave them alone. No initials or hearts -- or historic carvings by Basque shepherds -- on these young trees over at Prescott College.

Now here's something you don't see very often in a mountain town -- an ultra-lightweight racing bike. The standard Prescott bicycle has a beefy frame and fat tires, the better to cope with rocky mountain trails hereabouts.

Which mountains still keep Butte Creek running nicely.

At the CVS drug store on Miller Valley, spring has been declared. I couldn't figure out what purpose the items above serve except to transmit colored light. The plastic angels, of course, are for this year's garden.

I'm more inclined to rely on the ravens than a drugstore marketing man to tell me when spring is on the way. This pair was billing and cooing on a high lamppost; can you imagine these big, raucous birds as a romantic couple? I would expect that the courthouse ravens are already nesting, by the way.